


Stress Relief

by imitateslife



Category: Wooden Overcoats (Podcast)
Genre: Basically PWP but with more introspection than sexy times, Doctor/Patient, F/M, Honestly I just want to write Antigone getting the love and happiness she deserves, I write for an audience of one. Maybe two., Mutual Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28418916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imitateslife/pseuds/imitateslife
Summary: When Antigone goes in for her annual physical, she gets a prescription for stress relief from Dr. Edgeware that sounds too good to be true.
Relationships: Dr. Henry Edgware/Antigone Funn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Stress Relief

The cracked vinyl of the exam table squeaked under Antigone’s weight as she shifted on the flimsy plastic allegedly protecting her from the germs that clung to every surface in Chapman Community Hospital. For all its cheerful colors, Chapman Community Hospital may very well have never known the touch of a mop or broom. No one had bothered to hire more staff, even though Piffling Vale now boasted two hospitals. Only Doctor Henry Edgeware worked in either hospital, tired yet tireless in his rounds. 

Antigone had pretended not to watch him when she arrived early to the waiting room, though she was sure she hadn’t needed to keep up the charade of magazine-reading. As she idly flipped the pages, taking an afternoon of sick-leave for her annual physical, she stole glances at Piffling Vale’s only doctor. He wasn’t much older than her but silver threaded through his brown hair, making him look more regal than a village doctor had any right to look. His lab coat, worn and starched, stretched nicely along his torso so that when he turned his back, Antigone could see him flex his shoulders. She was no medical expert, but even a mortician could tell when a living man carried his shoulders in a way that betrayed tension. She imagined kneading it away with her calloused palms, hearing him moan and shudder, and it turned her a blotchy red. Antigone dove into the magazine in her hands only to find that it was nothing but smutty speculation about the love lives of celebrities whose names she didn’t know and with whose works she was not familiar. How was a woman supposed to enjoy torrid gossip when her own mind raged with its own “Will-They-Won’t-They” drama? 

It was all a fantasy, of course. She’d fancied Henry Edgeware for a long time when they were teenagers, packed those fantasies away when she finished school and devoted herself to the mortuary full-time, and only unpacked them on days like today. It did no good dwelling on dreams that Henry Edgeware had ever, could ever, or would ever desire her, if only because the poor man was too exhausted to notice anyone. Wasn’t he? A strange thing had happened in all of this quiet watching and wanting. Doctor Edgeware called for the next patient and, as Antigone marveled at the fit expanse of his chest, imagining undoing the buttons of his lab coat, Doctor Henry Edgeware caught her eye. Her glazed eyes sharpened. She sucked in her heated cheeks and tried to look away, but his eyes, hazel and bright, sparked with something other than exhaustion. He held her gaze and for a moment, seemed to forget that he was beckoning Sid Marlowe back for an appointment. It seemed for a moment that there were only two people in the waiting room, in Chapman’s, in all of Piffling Vale. Antigone couldn’t breathe.

That had been twenty-six minutes ago. Now she sat in Doctor Edgeware’s second examination room, dressed in only a hospital gown, and Antigone fought valiantly to convince herself that Doctor Edgeware hadn’t noticed anything amiss with her stare and that she, in turn, hadn’t noticed anything about him. 

“He isn’t that handsome,” she muttered. “And even if he is, you don’t like handsome men with brilliant minds and particularly gifted hands…”

She squirmed on the paper sheet as she imagined what those gifted hands might be capable of. Before she could get her breathing in order, there was a knock at the door.

“Miss Funn?”

“Damn,” she hissed. A little more boldly, voice still shaking, she called, “Just a moment, Doctor Edgeware!”

“Do you need help with the hospital gown?”

“N-no!” Antigone gritted her teeth. “I just… One moment, please!”

“Suit yourself.” Doctor Edgeware leaned against the door. “I can sleep standing up. Just knock on the door when you’re ready…”

“No, it’s fine!” Antigone lied. “Come in!”

She was his last appointment for the day. Antigone had made sure of that. It seemed most considerate and it allowed her a morning full of fantasy. Surely she should have been calmer by now? The door creaked open and Doctor Edgeware walked in. He smiled at her like a man unused to smiling at patients. It was a nice smile - teeth very straight, very clean. Antigone remembered the years Henry Edgeware wore braces and the other kids made fun. That was when she’d first fancied him. She spent so much of the year waiting for him to see her and approach her outcast-to-outcast that it never occurred to her back then that she could have approached him and told him that she liked his silly headgear, that it went well with her pollen suit. The braces, at least, had paid off. Antigone wished he would smile more. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Funn,” Doctor Edgeware said. “Annual physical?”

“Mm? Yes.”

Doctor Edgeware glanced at his chart and then back at Antigone. Was it her imagination or was he nervous?

“Did anything in particular prompt this visit?”

“Oh, you know,” Antigone said vaguely, “the inevitability of death, I suppose.”

“I see.” Doctor Edgeware wrote something on his chart. “Rudyard said he was making you do this.”

“Rudyard couldn’t make me do anything.” Antigone glowered. Then, tucking her head a little, she said, “All employees are required to have a medical history, but he still didn’t  _ make me _ . I would have come to see you on my own.”

“How is work?”

“Fine,” said Antigone. When Doctor Edgeware said nothing, she said, “Business could be better, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Doctor Edgeware. “I’ll try to send more patients your way then.”

Antigone laughed. The piercing sound jolted Doctor Edgeware to full-alert. He didn’t look alarmed, as most men did when Antigone Funn laughed. Instead, that smile Antigone longed to see cracked open more. Her breath hitched. 

“That- That was a joke, wasn’t it?” she asked. 

“Sure,” said Doctor Edgeware. He went to the wall and took down the blood pressure cuff. “It made you laugh. I haven’t made anyone laugh in a very long time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I’m not a clown; it’s not my job to make people laugh.”

“I used to want to be a clown,” Antigone said wistfully.

“Did you?” Doctor Edgeware wrapped her arm with the cuff. He pulled close to Antigone and she could smell his aftershave and the bite of rubbing alcohol. Her heart pounded hard in her chest. “What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you used to want to be a clown.”

“Oh.” Antigone’s heart pounded faster. “It’s nothing- it’s silly. I love being a mortician. I wouldn’t give it up-”

“No, no one is saying you should-”

“I mean, that would be like asking you to give up on being a doctor-”

“How I wish I could…!”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You’re the best doctor I know.”

“I’m the only doctor you know,” said Doctor Edgeware. “You don’t have to flatter me, but I appreciate it, Miss Funn.”

“Antigone.”

“I appreciate it, Antigone.” Doctor Edgeware looked at the blood pressure cuff and frowned. “Dear God, your heart rate is through the roof.”

“Oh… Oh, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Doctor Edgeware said. He wrote some things down on his clipboard. “I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs, make sure everything is all right.”

“Yes, of course, doctor.”

Doctor Edgeware set the blood pressure cuff aside and picked up the stethoscope from around his neck. He instructed Antigone to take a few deep breaths as he pressed the cold metal to her chest. Antigone willed her heart rate to slow as his hand pressed her sternum, too near her breasts for her not to think about his hands and her skin and the kinds of things they could do together. She shut her eyes as he moved to her back so he wouldn’t see the hunger she could feel gnawing at her gaze. 

“Just breathe normally,” Doctor Edgeware said. He pressed the stethoscope to her back. Antigone could feel him breathe and was it her imagination or did he breathe more shallowly now that they were pressed so close, now that it was silent? He cleared his throat. “How many hours a day would you say that you’re on your feet, Miss Funn?”

“Most.”

“How many days a week?”

“Death doesn’t take a vacation.”

Doctor Edgeware pulled away and looked at Antigone with concern. She let out a shaky breath. 

“Miss Funn, you’ve been working too hard,” Doctor Edgeware said. “You need to take your mind off things.”

Antigone’s breath caught in her chest. She looked at Doctor Edgeware, first in the eyes. He looked so worried, so concerned that she felt more naked than she already was. A blush crept up Antigone’s neck and spread across her cheeks. She looked at Doctor Edgeware’s lips and bit her own. 

“How do  _ you _ relax, doctor?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded warm and sexy and desirable. 

“I get drunk,” said Doctor Edgeware flatly. 

“Oh.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he continued. “It’s fine if you want to blackout for a few hours in between shifts at the hospital, but it isn’t sustainable or healthy. I’d never advise a patient to get drunk instead of practicing self-care.”

“I see.” A pause. “What would you recommend?”

Doctor Edgeware hesitated. He looked at Antigone and Antigone could feel the heat of his gaze. He looked sad and sorry and at first she thought he must have been sad and sorry to see her, but when she caught his eyes, there was no mistaking the look of open-faced desire painted across his features. If Antigone had been standing, she would have staggered. She hadn’t thought that anyone in her daily life, least of all her doctor, her neighbor, and her childhood crush was so capable of looking like a repressed and tortured Regency hero. 

“What do you do for stress relief?” he asked. “Warm baths?”

“No.”

“Massage?”

“No.”

“Meditation?”

“Now you’re just making up things.”

“Are you seeing someone, Miss Funn?”

“I’m seeing you right now, Doctor Edgeware.”

“Romantically. Sexually.”

“ _ How dare you? _ ”

“I’m only asking because you’re very tense,” he said. “You could benefit from intimacy.”

“Well, it isn’t as if men are beating down my door to be  _ intimate _ with a thirty-five year-old spinster who-”

That was when Doctor Henry Edgeware kissed her. He surged forward, his lips claiming hers firmly and he pushed apart her legs to stand between them. Antigone whimpered into the kiss and clumsily, without thinking, she wrapped her legs around Doctor Edgeware’s waist. She pulled him close and he pushed the exam table from a raised position to a reclining one with one hand. When the kiss broke, Antigone’s eyes fluttered open and she looked at Henry, who was smiling as he leaned over her. 

“I’d beat down your door to be intimate with you in a heartbeat,” he confessed.

“I’m sure you say that to all your patients…”

“I don’t.” Doctor Edgeware paused. “I haven’t fancied on any of my other patients. I don’t expect you to understand, but when you telephoned to make an appointment, I couldn’t have been happier just to see you.”

“This isn’t real…”

Doctor Edgeware’s other hand stroked Antigone’s thigh.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you more than you know.”

Antigone pushed his chest and he stood up, giving her space. 

“This isn’t funny, Henry,” she said. “Not when I’ve fancied you since we were teenagers-!”

“No, I’m not trying to be funny,” he said. “I’m trying to let you know how I feel and I recognize you may not feel the same way, but if you should ever need someone to work the knots out of your back… or to give you some kind of stress relief…”

“The knots in my back? What about the ones in yours?”

Henry shot Antigone a look and she covered her face with her hands. 

“Shut up!” she said between her fingers. “So what if I spent the afternoon in your waiting room, staring? What gave you the right to grow up to be so handsome?”

“I hoped you were staring,” he said. “I kept looking at you but you were always reading that horrid magazine…”

“I didn’t want you to notice me noticing you!”

“I want to notice you noticing me,” he said. His hand inched up Antigone’s thigh. “And I want you to notice me noticing you.”

“Couldn’t you notice me somewhere other than your waiting room? Bloody, bloody hell, Henry… This isn’t the least bit romantic!”

“It isn’t?”

“No! If you want to seduce me, don’t seduce me in your office!”

“Why not? We have plenty of privacy here and seeing as you’re my last appointment of the day…”

Antigone seized his hand. They made eye contact. For a moment, she considered tossing his hand aside and telling him she’d go to Jersey for her medical care if he was so intent on making her cheeks flame and heart race. Instead, she pulled his hand to the hot, pulsing spot between her thighs. He looked at her as if asking permission and she nodded. 

“Fine. If you’re so keen on curing my stress,” she said, rocking her hips against his hand, “you’d better get started. The hospital closes soon.”

Henry flexed his fingers against her entrance and Antigone moaned. Her eager eyes met his and Henry grinned. Slowly, he began to massage her. 

“I’m happy to stay overtime for medical emergencies.”

“And… And does this qualify as a medical emergency, Henry?”

He began to rub in deliberate circles. Antigone panted and whined, bucking against his fingers. She was hot and shaky under his touch, but embarrassment had fled her entirely as she met Henry's gaze. Antigone had never thought of herself as "beautiful", but the way Henry smiled almost fooled her into thinking she could be. Maybe to him, she was. She wanted to be. 

“It’s a very, very serious situation, _Antigone_ ,” he said. “It will take a delicate hand to remedy.”

“Not  _ too _ delicate-!  _ Henry! _ ”

As Antigone begged, Henry was not  _ too  _ delicate with her, nor was he too rough. They made love against the exam table and when he was spent, Henry went on pleasuring Antigone until she lay slack and hoarse and satisfied above him on the exam table. They lay together on the stained and torn medical paper, his lips trailing sleepy kisses across her bare shoulders. 

“Same time next week?” she murmured, arching against him. 

Henry wrapped an arm around her middle and tugged Antigone closer, chuckling softly.

“Better make an appointment,” he teased. “Since it’s such an urgent, medical matter.”

Antigone wouldn’t slink back to Funn Funerals for another hour or two, when Doctor Edgeware’s telephone rang and he had need for the exam room again. When she did, she wouldn’t spare Eric Chapman a second glance in the lift and she wouldn’t tell her brother why her doctor’s appointment had taken so long. She would, however, make eye contact with Georgie on her way back to the mortuary and have the shame to realize that she’d slunk away wearing Henry Edgeware’s lab coat. Tonight, she would sleep with it draped over her shoulders and swear she could smell aftershave and rubbing alcohol. In the morning, she would call the hospital and accept a fumbling, blushing dinner date from Henry Edgeware on the way to the Piffling Flower Market, because he said he couldn’t stop thinking about her and she would think that maybe she had stumbled into the pages of a romance novel worth reading. But for now, she would twist in Henry’s arms and kiss him and think that, perhaps, a little stress relief would be good for them both. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the commercial a the start of "Altar Ego", although it's actually been on my mind for a while, since I've been captaining this tiny ship for the last few months. I spent a serious amount of time debating making this in my "A Life and Death Kind of Love" series, and, thus, in the middle of dating/engaged Anitware, but I think I have other plans for them there that reuse some of these motifs (and that will make better use of my original title). Cheers!


End file.
